


the rule of three

by puckity



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidentally Already Kind Of Dating, Confessions, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 18:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puckity/pseuds/puckity
Summary: “This is so flippin’ stupid.” Donna squirmed, trying to keep the blood soaking through her department-issue slacks from freezing the fabric to the cold mulchy ground.“You’ve really gone and done it now, Hanscum. Geez.”





	the rule of three

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyryk (s_k)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/gifts).



> Written for the amazing [lyryk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk) over at the [2017 SPN/J2 Xmas Exchange](https://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/)! I couldn't resist pairing her request for some lady lovin' with our Wayward Sisters via a slightly less angsty version of her prompt:  _Two characters trapped somewhere, saying or doing things they otherwise wouldn’t because they think this is the end_.
> 
> I also couldn't decide between art or fic, so you get both (with TWO versions of the moodboard to boot)! I hope you enjoy this little gift!
> 
> Beta'd by the long-suffering [Rachel](http://betterwithsparkles.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can also follow me on [Tumblr](http://puckity.tumblr.com/), if you'd like!

 

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“This is so flippin’ stupid.” Donna squirmed, trying to keep the blood soaking through her department-issue slacks from freezing the fabric to the cold mulchy ground.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, Hanscum. Geez.”

It was supposed to be an easy, half-a-day job down in the Chippewa Forest. Not even a job, really, just some general snooping around and routine door-knocking. Donna had been dropping hints about the mysterious drownings out near Lake Winnibigoshish and the reports of hooves being heard in empty clearings and Jody had said that she’d swing by Grand Rapids, that she was going to be in the area already.

Donna had sent 37 text messages that morning—mostly detailing local blog theories and snack suggestions, but there were a few in there about actual logistics. She’d been a Girl Scout, after all.

And a sheriff. They were both sheriffs; that’s why this whole thing was so—

“Fucking stupid.” Jody muttered it low, gripped the jumble of steel rebar and tried lifting it off Donna’s leg for the sixth time. “Who even leaves this kind of shit stacked in the middle of the woods like it’s their own personal garbage dump?”

“Come on, Jody-o.” Donna kept her tone light, springy like a steel-trapped smile. “We both know how much illegal dumping goes on out in the boonies. It’s practically an Olympic sport up here.”

Jody hated that nickname—hated the cutesy, sugary bounce it had like one too many mouthfuls of a powdered sugar donut—and Donna knew it. But it was a distraction from the pain slicing across her knee and the shake in Jody’s hands and the wide stretch of night forest around them where anything could be prowling, so Donna said it with a smirk because they both needed to be distracted right about now.

“That’s what we get for assuming that this wouldn’t be a whole big thing.” Jody wiped the back of her hand under her bangs, streaking sweat and dirt and flecks of rust across her forehead. “When is it _ever_ not a whole big thing?”

“Don’t I know it.” Donna shifted her weight to her free leg. A jagged edge caught under her kneecap and she winced as it dragged sharp along her skin. “I just wish I’d brought a few more of those chocolate cherry granola bars with me, y’know?”

“Forget about that health food crap—we’re gonna get a full Biggerson’s meal once we get out of here.” Jody watched the syrup slick of blood pooling under Donna’s knee, dropped her fingertips soft along the khaki crease that ran up Donna’s thigh. “Does it hurt bad?”

It did; it hurt worse than the time Donna had slipped backwards on the grass at church camp and snapped both of her wrist bones clean across. Hurt worse than the day when—as a deputy—Donna had gotten a pocket knife jammed into her shoulder blade by a local kid coming off a bad trip. Hurt worse than their very last fight—her and Doug—when he’d looked at her with sloshy drunk eyes and told her that she’d only ever be tolerable, never loveable.

It hurt but Donna’d learned to be tough, to be strong against the pain and the fear and she hadn’t survived junkies and divorce and monsters just to bleed to death from some backwoods pile of tetanus and stupidity.

“Nah.” She slapped on an extra coating of Minnesota charm to really sell it. “I mean, it’s no walk in the park but I’ve had worse. I tell you what though, I’ll be following up with a citation about this for sure.”

Jody laughed, barked it dry and it crackled against the tree trunks around them. Donna couldn’t see the way it hummed along her cheeks, the way it smudged out the gruffness that set itself into the lines of her face when she was being Sheriff Mills—but she could imagine it.

Donna had never had many female friends. She’d grown up with brothers and boy cousins; girls—the pretty, untouchable ones or the cool, unapproachable ones (and Jody was both, wouldn’t you know it)—hadn’t been part of her childhood education. By the time she’d started wanting a girl or two in her life (more than her second cousins and the daughters of her mom’s bingo pals) she just hadn’t known how to go about it. She’d be too nice, too friendly, bringing unsolicited pies and casseroles to casual meetings. She’d talk too much and ask too many questions and get suckered into babysitting or running errands or taking partially-deaf aunts to appointments down in Duluth.

Like her driving instructor had said in her course comments: she was an overcorrecter.

Things either went that way or the other; tight-lipped smiles and quiet snickers and no more invitations to the monthly true crime book club. She was either tolerable or she wasn’t, and at a certain point she stopped trying for anything more than the standard pleasantries with most people. She had a job and a husband and that was enough, that was normal and average and fulfilling.

Then she just had a job and it was fine. More time to devote to her career, to being Sheriff Hanscum. More self-care time, more self-improvement time.

Then there were Sam and Dean and vampires and Jody. The world went big and full of more things to worry about than whether or not Jenny Nelson liked her coleslaw.

The world was also suddenly full of folks who tolerated her, and not because she was doing favors for them. Folks who—if push came to shove—might even say they liked her a little bit.

So there’d been group chats and 4AM calls and dinner invites and meeting families and now she was the number two speed dial for Claire and Alex and Sam had sent her a few e-mails asking about which Minnesota IPAs she’d recommend and it felt like…it felt like…

“Hey, hey, don’t you go doing that now.” Jody’s palms pressed gritty against Donna’s jaw; she snapped a few times in front of Donna’s nose. “You don’t get to take a nap until we’re back in my pick-up, got it?”

Donna blinked the haze away, hadn’t realized she was drifting until now. “Roger that, Sheriff Mills.”

Jody huffed and Donna could feel it, damp and hot, between them.

“Whatever jackass left this stuff here, they’re gonna _wish_ they were getting a citation once I’m done with them.” Jody’s fingers dug in for half a second, not hard enough for the blunt nails to bite into skin, before releasing.

“This hasn’t been our best date, that’s for sure.” Donna said it first, thought it second. She’d chased it out on impulse, didn’t know why she’d said it but knew it’d been rattling around in the back of her throat for a while. It was a joke like the jokes people made when they couldn’t say it any other way, when they weren’t really joking at all.

“Yeah, I’m not really the best with romance.” Jody rubbed the rough pad of her thumb behind Donna’s ear. “The last official date I went on was unintentionally with the King of Hell and he almost hexed me to death, so my track record’s not great.”

Donna chuckled. “Well, on the bright side, this hasn’t been your worst date either.”

“It will be if you bleed out. So—don’t. Y’know, bleed out and die.” Jody nudged in, shuffled a few inches closer. “If you do, I’ll be pissed.”

“I’m gonna try not to.” Donna curled a hand loose around Jody’s waist, under the lift of her parka. “Could use some motivation though, if you can think of any.”

“How about the best chocolate chip bacon pancakes you’ll ever have, with cream cheese spread and gooseberry preserves? There’s a place out in Sioux Falls that does the best made-from-scratch breakfasts and I, um, only share it with special folks.” Jody chewed at the corner of her mouth. “I _promise_ it’s as good as it sounds.”

One of their stomachs rumbled, but Donna couldn’t say whose. She was too busy staring at Jody’s chapped red lips, thinking of rich black coffee and three layers of quilts and catching the sunrise comb across a salt-and-pepper crop.

“But until then—”

The kiss was soft and a little stiff, but between the pain and the angle and the squelch of mud beneath them it was better than Donna guessed it’d be. Or maybe it wasn’t and Donna was too caught up in the flutter of Jody’s eyelashes and the tang of their sour cream & onion Pringles and the roman candles lighting up under her skin to notice, or care.

After a still moment they pulled back, but not too far.

“Holy buckets, I think I can stay alive for that.” Donna’s whisper diffused into hiccupped giggles from both of them and stopped only when something flashed through the tree line.

“That sounds like a group—maybe some kids?” Jody shifted back on her heels. “They might be able to get help.”

Donna leaned back on her wrists. “Or at least help lift this crap off me.”

Jody nodded, moved to get up and start waving them over.

Donna reached out, caught her by her fingertips. “First stack of pancakes is on you though.”

Jody paused like a record skip then smiled; reflected in the flickering lights Donna could see it all.

“Deal.”


End file.
